


Until I die and after I die

by theonetruenorth



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Embedded Images, Fluff, M/M, Soulmate AU, TV Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-31 12:59:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10899840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theonetruenorth/pseuds/theonetruenorth
Summary: When Magnus is seven years old, his mother explains to him the meaning of his soul mark.





	Until I die and after I die

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into English available: [Until I die and after I die](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12293367) by [Heiliglust89](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heiliglust89/pseuds/Heiliglust89)



> **Semi-important notice:** I am going with the TV show canon but for the sake of this universe I am giving Alec his blue eyes instead of Matt’s brown/hazel. I don’t have anything against his brown eyes - I just think blue would work better with this particular story, since this is the good old "you don't see colors until you meet your soulmate" kind of fic.

 

> _"I will love you forever; whatever happens. Until I die and after I die, and when I find my way out of the land of the dead, I'll drift about forever, all my atoms, till I find you again."_
> 
> _― Philip Pullman, The Amber Spyglass_

 

When Magnus is seven years old, his mother explains to him the meaning of his soul mark.

He doesn’t know what it says and his parents don’t understand it either. It’s two words, that much is clear, but he cannot read them. The mark curves in the space between the base of his left thumb and forefinger - it’s short, the letters pressed together to fit into the limited space. It’s not very elegant. It’s sharp in a way that suggests the person writing it has no time for nonsense of quirkiness and decorations.

His mother thinks that his soulmate will be born in another country, where she or he will speak a different language - and that’s okay too. Destiny only granted you one soulmate during the course of a lifetime and that person is your perfect match - they were created just for you, after all. The mark on his hand was a sign of the future. It is the first words that they will say to him.

And with soulmate also came colors.

For now the world around Magnus is black and white. He doesn’t know what colors look like - he only knows what his parents taught him. Technically, he knows that sky is blue and the grass is green, but for the time being, it’s just different shades of gray.

Magnus asks her about her own mark and she shows him the tiny script on the right side of her chest, just over her ribs. His father’s mark is over his left collarbone. She tells him how the world suddenly exploded into colors when they finally met, how wonderful it was to experience it for the first time.

Magnus wonders what his soulmate will be like, what part of their body will be adorned with his mark and what kind of words will they exchange. The words on his hand must mean something great and his soulmate is going to be amazing - someone exotic from another country, someone who will be his and his alone. He vows to find someone who will translate his mark, so that he could pay more attention to what is being said to him.

Magnus runs his fingers over the mark often, a dozen times per hour, and he can’t wait for the day he meets his other half.

 

* * *

 

When Magnus is eight years old, another other kind of mark manifests in his eyes and Magnus would do anything - _anything_ \- to make it go away.

His mother hangs herself and his father’s world shifts back to black and white with her death. It’s the first time Magnus learns that when your soulmate dies, the colors you see disappear as well and the mark fades away from your skin. Like it was never there in the first place.

His father tries to kill him.

Magnus is eight years old when he learns that the agony of losing half of your soul is so severe, it makes you wish you were dead as well.

 

* * *

 

When Magnus finally learns what his words mean, he can’t help but to feel disappointed.

The mark on his hand translates into _'well done'_ and it so common, so... mundane, that Magnus isn’t sure if he should laugh or cry. After his mother’s stories about how every soul bond is unusual and unique, he hoped for something different - something that might make it easier for him to recognize his special person.

In the end, he doesn’t laugh and he doesn’t cry. He just sits there for a long moment, staring at his mark, feeling a stirring of resentment for the first time in his life.

 

* * *

 

Magnus falls in love for the first time shortly before he passes his first century.

She is beautiful and quiet and kind. Her long dark hair and bright eyes are a combination he falls for almost immediately. She doesn’t have a mark - she was born with one, but her soulmate must have died when she was a teenager because her mark faded away. She never met them and Magnus thinks that if someone is condemned to living out their life in monochrome, maybe it’s better to know they don’t have a chance of changing that.

He stays and lives and loves her until she passes away. It hurts. Her loss feels sudden, but then again, everything seems to last as long as a blink of an eye when your own life never ends.

He can’t help but to feel like the worst type of filth when the quiet voice in his head tells him that now that _the distraction_ is gone, he can focus on finding the right person.

Magnus cannot stop thinking about his soulmate being a mortal as well and having only a short time with them on this earth before they are taken away from him and his world fades back to gray once more.

It seems like the worst kind of curse and, for a brief moment, Magnus wonders if that kind of heartbreak is even worth it.

 

* * *

 

He keeps on looking.

For years and years and years, Magnus searches for the other part of his soul. He falls in and out of love, he tries to stay positive about life, only to fall into the pit of despair.

Every time he hears someone say _‘well done’_ to him his heart soars, only to be let down again.

He tries to pretend that soulmates don’t exist. He tries living out his eternity without the burden of the other life hanging over him. He lives and he loves, and there are days when he almost believes his own lies.

Magnus starts wearing gloves - full or finger-less - on an everyday basis. As he grows in power, he’s afraid of others trying to force the bond on him - of using him for his magic - and he doesn’t want to give them an advantage over him by letting them read his mark.

And if it makes his heart ache a little less to keep it covered and not look at it... well, that’s nobody’s business but his own.

 

* * *

 

The fact that he cannot see colors doesn’t stop him from dressing as colorful and flamboyant as he possibly can. He goes shopping with people who met their soulmates so that they can describe the fabrics to him. He knows that sometimes his style is too much, but Magnus is too old to be bothered about what others think of him. He rubs it in their faces, wears colors that are as bright as they possibly can be, especially in the ‘80.

Magnus knows that a lot of people wear only black and white, the safe options when you can’t see colors, but for him it’s such a bore. Nephilim especially seem to be permanently stuck to black. He knows it’s because they marry young (and die young) and, more often than not, for political reasons and not for love, so they never meet their soulmates.

He makes it his personal mission to wear only obnoxious colors when interacting with Raziel’s children.

 

* * *

 

Magnus is three hundred and twenty six years old when he tells Ragnor that he is done.

Logically, he knows that as an immortal being it’s highly possible his soulmate wasn’t even born yet, but he doesn’t want to look anymore. He’s tired of the constant rollercoaster of emotions; of building his hopes up only to be left in the dirt again.

Ragnor tells him of the old Chinese belief, about the red thread of fate that connects two people through time, two souls that were destined to meet eventually. He tells Magnus not to give up.

Magnus’ world is a constant gray mass, as if his eyes were trying to let him know what his heart knew all along.

He’s not going to find his soulmate.

 

* * *

 

Magnus is almost four hundred years old when Valentine’s forces resurface and his lair is attacked. His friends are dead, the warlocks under his protection are dead, and there are enemies coming after him.

He fights the last one off, building up his magic when an arrow aids him in taking down his opponent.

“Well done,” the voice behind him says and Magnus doesn’t even twitch at the words anymore. His heart stopped beating faster upon hearing them almost a century ago.

“More like medium rare.” He shrugs and turns towards his new ally, only to find a raven-haired, blue-eyed young man staring at him in shock.

‘ _Wait..._ ’ Magnus has a fracture of a second to wonder, ‘... _blue_ ’?

The way his mother described it, it sounded like a sudden revelation but Magnus thinks it’s more like being sucker punched without any warning. He can’t breathe. Any air around him was sucked out by the sudden onslaught of what must be _colors_ all around him, bleeding over his black and white world and changing it and, for the first time in centuries, he felt alive.

He doesn’t know how, but he knows which color is which. The wall art behind the young man is _red_ , as are the feathers of the arrows that the shadowhunter uses. The lamp light on the wall is a soft _orange_ and the vase on the bookshelf is _green_ and _gold_. And his soulmate’s eyes are a dazzling, beautiful shade of _blue_.

His soulmate.

The young man - a boy, really - looks like a deer caught in the headlights, staring at him with his mouth slightly open and a startled, vulnerable look in his eyes. He is trembling, Magnus can see that even from the distance, the way his entire frame shivers in what could only be hope and fear and longing combined.

Magnus takes a couple of steps forward, a little ungracefully, and his soulmate goes completely still, as if he suddenly turned into a statue. He can’t seem to take his (brilliant, amazing, _blue_ ) eyes off Magnus, tracking his every move.

Slowly, so very slowly, Magnus peels off his left glove and raises his hand, the black ink at the base of his thumb clearly visible to them both. The boy before him swallows, reaches to push the long sleeve of his shirt up to reveal the mark, a harsh contrast of black against pale skin.

_‘More like medium rare’_ , it says, and Magnus lets out a quiet laugh. He can bet that there is a long list of people who thought it was funny and probably teased the poor boy mercilessly.

“I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced,” he says, his voice soft and calm, unlike the maelstrom of emotions that are raging inside of him, “I’m Magnus.”

“Alec,” his soulmate answers, a shy and a little dumbfounded smile slowly spreading across his face and Magnus finds himself grinning as well. Alec’s eyes trace over his face, observing the way the gold glitter around his eyes catches and reflects light.

“I...” Magnus starts, his expression growing more serious when he realizes that this is it, this is his soulmate. He reaches towards Alec, pressing his fingers over the boy’s mark and they both gasp. The empty, aching space inside of him fills up with what can only be the beginning of a soul bond - the warm, comforting feeling of _want_ , _need_ , _love_ \- pooling in his chest, gathering around his heart.

At that moment, Magnus realizes it doesn’t matter if his soulmate is mortal or not. It doesn’t matter if his world fades back to black and white after decades, years, months, or even just days. Alec makes him feel again - alive and complete for the first time in forever - and he’s going to gladly suffer for the rest of his life if it means he can have _this_ , even for a brief moment.

“I have waited for you for so long,” Magnus whispers in a voice that is a little broken, staring into those blue eyes that are pulling him in deeper, until he can’t find a way out.

“I’m here now,” Alec whispers back, reaching for Magnus’ hand without even looking, fingers stroking gently over the warlock’s soul mark.

 

* * *

 

Magnus is almost four hundred years old when he finds the other half of his soul.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Every fic is first posted to my tumblr and I upload it to AO3 with a delay. If you want to read my stories as soon as I finish them, follow me there: theonetruenorth.tumblr.com
> 
> Beta-read by [RomanceShipper](http://archiveofourown.org/users/RomanceShipper)


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